When she got back to her questions again in the monotonous high-road that led up the hill, she found the image of Mr. . At first she thought he was endeavouring to rid himself of the fleas, but after a time she came to understand that the muck had healing qualities and soothed the burning scratches made by his claws. ” He paused and looked at her, and said, with a sudden drop into a confidential undertone, “Or else I want to pray. “It’s still a marvel to me that we are to be forgiven,” she said, turning. Her head snapped back as he grabbed her by the hair. Slowly a mirthless and very unpleasant smile dawned upon his face.
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